#also i realise i ALSO don't elaborate on this but yes i think they could be a trio id love to see snaf and sid navogating that together itd

[nahoney22]

One Night With Royalty***

🫧 Pairing: Prince Rex X Female Reader

word count: 3.5k

prompt:

“Can you be good for me?”

Summary: When the Prince Rex is admired by your beauty, he takes no time in taking you by your hand, offering you a dance and perhaps offering you a little more.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. AU fic. Cinderella Inspired. Explicit Sexual Content and Language, Dirty Talk, Praises, Face Sitting, Oral Sex ie Cunnilingus, Creampie, P in V Sex, Soft!Dom Rex, Female Reader Wearing a Ball Gown (your choice of colour), Reader Flees at Midnight.

Authors Note: I loved this idea anon! Fitting with the theme of Cinderella I’ve also done it that Reader leaves at midnight same as the film for ✨ drama ✨ i hope this is okay and you enjoy 😊

Entering the palace was like stepping into a realm of enchantment. With each stride you took brought forth a spectacle of grandeur that left you breathless. At first, you thought maybe it was the mountain of stairs you just had to climb in heels that had the wind knocked out of you but it was the crystal chandeliers that illuminated the vast expanse of marble floors with a soft, ethereal glow that had you captivated.

The soft hue casted intricate patterns of light that danced in harmony with the melodies of the orchestra; an unfamiliar sound to you. Not only that, but the air was a symphony of laughter and conversation, carrying with it the mingling scents of exotic flowers from an array of different planets.

The sights of Princesses, Noble men, Senators, and Jedi alike moved gracefully, their elaborate gowns and finely tailored suits exuding an air of regal sophistication. Making you feel like you stood out like a sore thumb as you navigated through the ballroom. Holding onto your dress to avoid tripping over yourself, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of sparkling tiaras and impeccably polished shoes from the guests.

Despite the overwhelming opulence surrounding you, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind - "I so don’t belong here…"

With a twist of fate and defying your disapproving family who didn’t even want you here tonight, a stroke of luck shined your way. But you couldn’t even think about that right now. You just wanted to take this all in.

Though all eyes were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Prince Rex - the main reason for the ball - your focus remained captivated by the beauty of your surroundings; caught in a reverie. It hardly felt real.

Overwhelmed by it all, you sought for a moment of calm in the serenity of the outdoors. The far left door beckoned, leading to a spacious balcony offering a panoramic view of the landscape bathed in the stunning glow of a deep purple sunset.

As you stood there, momentarily lost in the beauty before you, a voice shattered the tranquility, causing you to startle. Turning, your eyes widened in astonishment as the Prince himself stood before you.

The tales of his valour in the Clone Wars had preceded him, his attire matching the hues of his armor - a finely embroidered doublet of blue and white. And the praise regarding his looks was indeed warranted, as he was undeniably handsome. It felt like a crime to even look at him.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" His voice was soft, his gaze kind as he regarded you.

"Yes, it is," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness as you instinctively dipped into a formal address, feeling suddenly small in his presence.

His smile was warm, his demeanor charming as he took a step closer, one hand casually tucked behind his back. "I hope you don't mind me coming to say hello. I noticed you when you entered and realised you were alone."

You struggled to comprehend how he could have singled you out amidst the bustling crowd, let alone why he would choose to engage with you. "Not at all, Your Majesty," you managed, your words tinged with a mix of surprise and admiration as you offered a quick curtsy.

He chuckles, laughter almost was infectious, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he drew nearer. "The pleasure is mine," he replied, his charm putting you at ease.

Stopping before you, he extended his hand with a gallant gesture. "Will you do me the honor of having the first dance with me?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Caught off guard, you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, a mixture of disbelief and elation flickering across your features. "I...I would be honoured," you stammered, finally accepting his offer, your heart racing with excitement as you took his hand.

As the Prince led you back into the ballroom, this time to the dance floor, you couldn't help but notice the hushed gasps and murmurs that followed your entrance. You chew on the inside of your cheek as a sense of unease crept over you, a stark reminder of your perceived insignificance among the sea of nobility and royalty.

Sensing your trepidation, the Prince offered a comforting squeeze of your hand, his reassuring touch momentarily easing your nerves. With a subtle nod, he guided you to the center of the room.

As the orchestra resumed its melody, the Prince's gaze met yours. For a moment, there was a glimmer of something unmistakable flickering in his eyes. There was a hunger there, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

With each step, the Prince's presence enveloped you, his firm yet gentle touch guiding you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. As you stole glances at the onlookers, their reactions ranged from smiles of admiration to expressions of confusion and even disdain. You’re nervous, the weight of their scrutiny threatening to dampen your spirits, but the Prince's reassuring voice cut through the noise.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Look at me."

You tore your gaze away from the judgmental stares, focusing instead on the Prince's intense eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets. Yet, despite his attempt to shield you from the prying eyes of the crowd, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of inadequacy that lingered within you.

"I..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the turmoil churning within your mind. "I can't help but feel... out of place."

The Prince's brow furrowed with concern, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly as he sought to understand your inner thoughts. "What are you thinking? If you do not wish to dance just say. I will not take offense," he observed, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your insecurities threatening to overwhelm you. "It's just... I know why this ball is happening. You're seeking a companion, marriage. Someone who is worthy of your stature and position. And yet, here I am, dancing with you, unable to offer anything of value."

Your confession hung heavy in the air, the vulnerability of your words laid bare before him.

“So you are not a Princess or a Senator?” The Prince's unwavering gaze held yours, his question hanging in the air with a weight that made your breath catch in your throat. As more guests joined the dance, their attention momentarily diverted.

Summoning your courage, you met his gaze head-on. "No, Your Majesty, you are not mistaken. I am neither of those things."

For a moment, silence hung between you, the weight of your admission settling over the space like a heavy fog. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles.

"May I tell you a secret?" His voice was low, conspiratorial almost. Anyway, it was enough to draw you in with its intimacy.

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. "Of course," you replied, your curiosity piqued.

"I do not wish to marry. Not yet, anyway." His words were like a revelation, catching you off guard and causing your mind to reel with disbelief. "It is simply my duty. I did not want this Ball to take place knowing I had to marry a stranger."

The two of you danced more together, neither of you seeming to want the music to end. But there was something now different in the way he held you.

His touch was possessive, almost afraid that you were going to slip away from him at any point or have another man come and take you from him. His movements deliberate too, each step charged with an unspoken intensity that left you breathless.

The Prince's hold on you was undeniably suggestive, his every movement a tantalising invitation that stirred something primal within you. You felt foolish for getting so heated by him but there was a curious thought in your mind.

“Why have you asked me to dance with you if you’re not looking for something?”

Your question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty, as you searched the Prince's eyes for answers. His hand, once intertwined with yours, now caressed your cheek with a tenderness that elicited an audible gasp from your lips, your eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected intimacy.

As his fingertips brushed against your skin, a rush of sensations coursed through you, igniting a fire that seemed to burn hotter with each passing moment in the bottom of your stomach. How could a simple touch evoke such a visceral reaction?

"Who says I'm not looking for something?" His words, laced with suggestion, sent a shiver down your spine, your eyes snapping open to meet his gaze once more. You saw the hunger in his eyes, a desire that started to mirror your own.

Heat rose to your cheeks, the feeling of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "I cannot lie and say that's not flattering," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as his hands trailed across your body with an intimacy that left you stunned.

Leaning in close, his lips mere inches from your ear, he whispered words that sent a jolt of electricity straight between your legs. "Have you ever been with royalty?"

With a sense of excitement, the Prince guided you through hidden corridors and secret passages, away from prying eyes and into the seclusion of his personal chambers. Each step was imbued with anticipation, yet you were eager to see what was to happen.

As he opened the door, granting you entry into his private domain, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. The tapestries that draped the wall, the size of his bed… all of it. But before you could fully take in your surroundings, the Prince stepped up behind you, his hands finding purchase on your hips, his lips brushing against your ear in a gesture that sent shivers down your spine.

"Do you want to do this?" His voice, soft yet commanding, filled the room with an intoxicating allure that left you breathless.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your desire evident in every trembling breath.

"In here," he murmured, his hands trailing down your back as he began to slowly, deliberately, undress you. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body that has your knees shaking, “you can call me Rex.”

As the fabric of your dress fell away, leaving you exposed in your corset and undergarments, a flush of heat flooded your cheeks at the Prince's appreciative gaze. "You are beautiful," he whispered against your skin, the warmth of his breath making your head roll back and rest in the crook of his shoulder. His lips found your exposed neck, gently kissing along your skin that makes you whimper under his touch.

Your body tingles with anticipation as Rex then led you to his bed. As he sat down, his gaze roamed over your form with a soft smirk, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he kissed over your knuckles softly that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. "Can you be good for me?" he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

“Yes, Rex,” you replied, your voice husky with longing. “Anything for you.”

"Good girl," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as he quickly undressed you until you were now fully nude, him following suit before he reclined on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackled with tension as you crawled towards him, your movements deliberate and sensual.

As you drew closer, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both. His lips were warm and delicious, tender and precise whilst his hands roamed over your body with an urgency.

But then, with a subtle command, he guided you into position, his gaze smoldering with desire as he whispered, "I wish for you to sit on my face."

A smile of anticipation spread across your lips, your eyes shining with desire as you straddled his face, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. With a low moan of pleasure, you lowered yourself onto him, the sensation of his tongue exploring your cunt sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

"You taste so fucking good," he moans into your heat, his tongue working wonders as it explores every inch of your dripping arousal. Gripping your thighs firmly, he holds you in place, his determination evident in the fervour of his actions.

His hand roams upwards, teasing your sensitive skin until it finds purchase on your breast, kneading and pinching your hardened nipples. “R-Rex,” you whine beautifully, gazing down at him between your legs, his brown eyes staring back at you with desire as he sticks his tongue deep in your hole; the noises lewd, sloppy and messy

Feeling bold, you begin to move your hips, grinding against his face with increasing urgency. "That's it, ride my tongue," he encourages, praises, his words muffled by your slicked cunt that sends vibrations through your core.

You're on the brink of ecstasy after a few minutes, your body trembling. "I'm gonna cum, Rex," you moan, your fingers brushing against his buzzed-blonde hair as he pushes you closer to the edge with his expert ministrations.

"Go ahead, cum for me," he demands, his grip tightening as he doubles his efforts, pushing you over the edge into a euphoric release. With a satisfied groan, he laps up your essence, savouring the taste of your pleasure.

As you catch your breath, he guides you onto his lap, his solid cock pressing against you. "Are you ready for more?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours, his desire evident in the hunger of his kiss. “You’ve got such a beautiful pussy… I just need to bury myself inside you.”

Your mind is reeling from the intense pleasure coursing through your veins as Rex's lips devour yours, leaving you yearning for more. “Yes, yes fuck me please!”

He grins against your lips and flips you over, positioning himself above you, anticipation coils in the pit of your stomach. His cock presses against your slick folds, the size both intimidating and exhilarating. "You're so big, Your Majesty," you purr in desire.

"I told you," he replies softly, his breath hot against your skin as he begins to ease himself inside you, eliciting a hearty groan of satisfaction. "Call me Rex."

With each inch of his length filling you, a symphony of pleasure floods your senses, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. His hands grip the sheets beside you, his movements deliberate and controlled as he savours the sensation of being buried deep within you.

"Stars, you're tight," he murmurs. "It's been so long for me..."

You offer no words of reassurance, only the soft sounds of your moans and the tightening of your legs around him, urging him to delve deeper into each moan you make.

His pace starts slow but then quickens quickens, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "You've got such a lovely cunt," he coos, his eyes locked on the intimate union between your bodies, his cock glistening with your slick arousal. "You feel so good."

"M-More, I need more, Rex," you whimper, your body arching against his, desperate for the relentless rhythm of his thrusts.

With a deep grunt, he obliges, his movements becoming more urgent and rough as he plunges into you with unrestrained passion. "Beautiful," he praises, his voice thick with desire as he loses himself, gazing into your brown eyes.

The room fills with the sounds of passion, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and lust. Your body is ablaze with desire, every nerve ending ignited by the intoxicating pleasure of Rex's touch. With each thrust, he elicits a chorus of moans and gasps from your lips, driving you to the brink of madness.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice a husky whisper against your skin as he buries himself deeper inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he practically folds you in half. "So tight and wet for me, just begging to be fucked."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, the sheer intensity of his desire sending shivers down your spine. "Yes, Rex, please," you whimper, your voice a desperate plea for more of him, more of the overwhelming pleasure he brings.

He responds with a sigh, his movements growing more urgent and desperate as he seeks to fill the hunger that consumes you both. "You're driving me crazy," he confesses, his voice raw with need as he loses himself.

You want more. You need more. "Harder, Rex," you beg, your nails digging into his skin as you urge him to push you further, to take you to the edge again.

With a fierce determination, he complies, his thrusts becoming one again rougher and more intense as he drives you towards the pinnacle of release. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growls, kissing your neck before resting his forehead to yours, locking gazes. “You look so cock-hungry.”

It was sudden, your orgasm hitting you like blaster-fire. With a shared cry of release, you surrender to the overwhelming tide of pleasure, your walls contracting on his cock.

You screamed his name, grasping at his body desperately as he gives strained grunt before he spilled deep inside you. He holds you tight, still slowly thrusting in and out, and you kept clawing at his back, murmuring incoherently.

Rex soon stops, staying inside you as you just laid there together, catching your breaths. “You are wonderful.” He murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You smile lazily, your legs still twitching as you slowly come down from your high, gasping quietly as his softening cock slips out of you.

“May I draw you a bath?” As Rex offers to run you a bath, he covers you with a part of his duvet and you can’t help but feel touched by his consideration for your comfort, and a blush warms your cheeks at his respect for your dignity.

"I feel like I should be asking you," you chuckle softly, meeting his gaze. "After all, you are the Prince. But I'd like that, if you don't mind?"

"I would not have offered otherwise," he assures you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before retreating into the refresher, the sound of running water filling the silence.

Alone in his room, you allow yourself a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of events that led you here. You had only wanted to have a bit of fun tonight, sneaking into the Ball without your family's knowledge and experiencing just splendor, only to catch the eye of the Prince himself. And what followed was beyond your wildest dreams. He had been kind, sweet, and utterly captivating.

But reality soon creeps back in, reminding you of the inevitable constraints of his royal obligations.

With a heavy sigh, your gaze lingered on a clock and your eyes widened as realisation hit. Time is slipping away and you must leave—fast.

Hastily, you gather your clothes, struggling to dress yourself. The intricate laces of your dress prove to be a challenge, and frustration mounts as the seconds tick by.

The sound of your hurried movements catches Rex's attention, and he emerges from the refresher, a quizzical expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"

"I..." you falter, meeting his gaze, the softness and confusion in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings. He looks almost like a wounded creature, not wanting to see you go. "I have to leave. But I've had the most magical night, Your Majesty."

As you turn to leave, a pang of regret grips you tightly. "Wait! I... I don't even know your name," Rex calls out, his voice laced with a hint of shame at his oversight, mentally cursing at himself for never asking. Supposedly it was because he felt like he did know you.

But time is against you, and you have no choice but to flee his chambers, leaving his question unanswered. With an apologetic glance over your shoulder, you bolt from the room, your heart pounding in your chest as you navigate the labyrinth passageways of the palace, praying you remembered the way he led you in.

Meanwhile, Rex scrambles to dress himself, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He curses his own foolishness for not asking your name sooner, knowing that now, you're gone, slipping through his fingers like sand.

As he races down the stairs of the palace, clothes askew and heart pounding, he scans the darkness of the night, searching for any trace of you.

All he has now are the memories of your eyes, the warmth of your touch, and the lingering scent of your lips to remind him of the moment you shared.

But Rex is determined. He will find you again, no matter the cost.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

[starbylers]

heyy can you elaborate why you don't think byler is getting into a relationship? got curious about it

Yes absolutely :) basically my perspective is that the story they are trying to tell in canon isn’t the story of Mike and Will actually dating and how that would be initiated or what it would look like, but moreso about the different obstacles they have to overcome as teenagers in the 80s to realise and act on their feelings. I do agree when people say a singular season is not enough to have Mleven break up and Byler be in a full blown relationship. (That didn’t even happen with St*ncy/Jancy in s2–Nancy and Jonathan didn’t officially date until the next season). I think the end point is Mike realising that the love he needs/wants has been right in front of him this whole time and in turn understanding a lot of things about who he is (i.e. Not Straight), and Will gaining the confidence to accept who he is and also accept that he deserves good things. Essentially both of them completing their rejecting conformity arcs, and the culmination of that story ending in them expressing their feelings/kissing etc. I think their future will be left a little open-ended but in an optimistic way. ‘Let’s start a new party, you and me’ type of thing. In my opinion Byler officially getting together/dating would need a whole spin off to do it justice, because to me that’s another story entirely (one I wish I could see, but that’s what fic and hcs are for haha).

[strwberri-milk]

May I request some fluff involving Kaeya's S/O tending to Kaeya's hair? Washing it, brushing it, braiding it or just playing with it in general. Kaeya's hair is long and undoubtedly soft and NEEDS to be touched and caressed so much (much like Kaeya himself).

Bonus points: S/O is very good at braiding and, when they're feeling playful, they do up Kaeya's hair in incredibly elaborate braided styles that get all the people of Mondstadt staring in awe at Kaeya for the rest of the day, and he basks in the attention like the peacock he is while making it no secret it's his S/O's handiwork, and when S/O undoes said elaborate hairstyle at the end of the day, it's a slow & sensual & tender experience, lots of gently running fingers through Kaeya's locks & sneaking kisses on his face & shoulders

cries screams and **** i love that shit so much i fucking grrrr

Kaeya's used to doing his hair by himself now. He's been doing it alone for a while now, so it's not like it's something weird to him.

However, once you started to play with his hair he realised just how much he liked it. It not only kept you so close to him, but it also was such a soothing sensation to him, making him melt into you with happy sighs.

He trusts you enough to not really think much about any potential consequences that could come up from you being given free rein of his hair. Honestly, as far as he's concerned, you're probably going to do amazing, and if you don't it's all water under the bridge because he spent time with you as you did it.

He can hear you shuffling around behind him almost nervously, taking a sip of his drink and reading his book with a hidden amused smile.

"Sweetheart? Is something wrong?" he asks, finally turning to look at you.

"No, nothing. I just..." he can tell you want to ask him something, gesturing for you to crawl into his lap. You do so, maybe less gracefully than he thought but he easily catches you, kissing your cheek.

"What is it? What do you want?"

"Can I do your hair?"

The look you give him melts his heart, your puppy dog eyes are totally unneeded but definitely useful if he was considering saying no. Instead of replying, he just turns his back to you, letting his hair out and chuckling to himself at the happy noise you make as you run off to get your things.

Your touch is warm and lingering, pressing soft kisses against his scalp and resting your hands on his shoulders as you plan your next move, hmming and haahing from behind him.

He laughs whenever he feels you getting distracted, tangling your fingers through his locks and messing with them. It's quiet and you can barely hear him, but he is so happy to know you're having such a good time combing through his hair.

When you're done he can't help but whistle lowly at the sight of himself in the mirror. He preens a little, facing this way and that way to admire the braids and loose curls that perfectly frame his face. He's glad he's got some errands to run now, happily showing off his hair. Every time someone comments on it he tells them how you put so much effort into it, flaunting just how much you love him.

"It was such a long day. I felt like a walking advertisement for you," he teases when he's finally able to relax, sitting between your legs and leaning against the mattress.

"So? Is that a bad thing?" you scold, pulling on his scalp as you undo his hair to mess with him.

"Yes. It was awful telling everyone just how in love I am with you," he laughs, tilting his face up for a kiss.

You take your time taking his hair down, eventually ending up on the floor behind him. You're leaning against him, massaging his scalp as you press kisses against his neck. He hums happily, leaning back against you as well as you brush out his hair, pulling you around so you can work on his bangs.

"Any longer and I might fall asleep," he yawns, putting his arms around your waist.

"You can sleep. That's fine."

You pull him into your chest, cupping his hands in your face and peppering him with kisses. He falls into you, sighing in contentment and letting you spoil him with attention, practically crawling into your lap as you continue to lavish him with kisses until you decide to persuade him into the bed. You finish up as he burrows into the sheets, continuing to mess with his locks until the two of you fall asleep together.

[ohallthecrushes]

"What about love?"

A/N: ok, this is what I've been working on lately. There may be part two, I have the whole story in my head, but I'm not sure yet how to write it down. Let me know if you want a continuation. I appreciate every comment and suggestion.

Summary: Both, Morpheus and Reader fear rejection and they worry that what they feel to each other could change the dynamic of their friendship. Morpheus is quite guarded when it comes to falling in love and Reader is afraid that by allowing her feelings to grow and acting on them may somehow destroy what she already has with Morpheus. They need help from someone like Matthew to realize how foolish they both are and how they should finally go for it and be together. In essence, idiots in love. xd

"I will not elaborate on that." You shook your head refusing to talk about your feelings for Morpheus. "We're friends that's all."

"Friends?" Matthew ruffled up his feathers in disbelief. "What friends have eyes on each other like that?"

"Like what?" You raised your brow and looked up at Matthew. He was hopping on a lower tree branch on your right side like he was unable to stand still, due to how impatient he felt...

"Like you are looking at the most delicious cake you've been longing to eat after a long time of starvation, but for some unspecific reason you won't."

You chuckled. "So you're saying there's a sexual tension between us?"

"Yes! But not only that..." He raised his wings slightly annoyed by how foolish you and Morpheus acted, not willing to admit to your feelings towards each other. "There are feelings there. Deep ones." His voice softened a bit. "All those romantic dates you've had, all those soft gazing at each other, sweet whispers, nervous flirting..."

You sighed as you adjusted your position, leaning back against the tree. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, thinking about what Matthew had already said, thinking about your joyful times spent with Dream lord.

"... It's all there in everything you do when you're two together." He flew down and landed on grass next to you. "Love." He added as if it wasn't obvious already.

Love. You let that sink in.

A very strong, very overwhelming, very perilous feeling.

You closed your eyes for a moment, Morpheus face and his starry eyes gazing at you appeared in your mind like a picture framed.

But love is also a very beautiful, very pleasing and absolutely treasured thing worth feeling.

Matthew was right. There was a potential for love between you and Dream lord. And if you were being honest with yourself, if you could only let go of your fear of rejection and insecurities, maybe you were able to embrace what your heart was holding for Morpheus.

You opened your eyes and looked at the raven. Matthew was observing you, knowing that his pep talk finally managed to make you consider taking some action. There was still some work to do, especially on Morpheus behalf, but seed had been already planted.

"I have to admit..." You said. "Your gentle nudging seems to be working." Your lips curled up into a soft smile. "I have some feelings for Morpheus, but..."

"Oh, there's always a but." Matthew sighed to himself.

"... I don't know if this is a good idea to let him know, I'm not sure if Morpheus is... ready to take our relationship to a deeper level."

You pondered as you leaned your head back, not realising that Matthew had already spread his wings to fly away. When you looked at him he was at a far distance, and before you could stop him, he came off the ground.

"Matthew!" You called after him. "You're not going to-"

"Worry not, Y/N! Morpheus won't find out about our talk! I'm just gonna encourage him in a subtle way to acknowledge his feelings and to talk to you about them!" Matthew made an exciting rattle sound and flew away to the palace to play Cupid.

Oh no you thought. Matthew and his subtle way to make things happen.

Matthew perched on a nearby bookshelf, looking thoughtfully at Morpheus as he stood by the window, gazing into the night sky. The raven knew he had to tread carefully, for Morpheus was not one to easily share his emotions.

"Speak freely Matthew. What's on your mind?"

"Ah, you know..." Matthew began, pretending to be nonchalant, "I couldn't help but notice how Dreaming has been beaming lately with glee, warmth, fresh spring hair... Love..."

Morpheus raised an eyebrow, not giving away anything.

"And I think it has something to do with Y/N being here..." Matthew continued. "She seems to enjoy spending time with you, seeking your company more often. And I dare to say, you seek for her companion too."

Morpheus shifted slightly. "Her presence has a quite delightful impact on my realm, yes." He stated, trying to remain composed. He didn't know where Matthew was going with it, but definitely something mattered.

"And it's more than that, sir." Matthew paused, implying that you had a strong impact on Lord of dreams himself.

Matthew considered his next words. "But I also notice... Well, actually it's not only me who has noticed that, that you both, ah... are unaware of each other's feelings."

Morpheus turned his head to him and Matthew shifted slightly under the intense gaze of Dream lord.

"As much as I usually welcome your insights and wise counsel, it is not your position to interfere with what me and lady Y/N have." Morpheus said in a soft but firm voice, politely reprimanding his raven.

"I know, forgive me my boldness, sir." Matthew lowered his head in a respectful way.

There was a long pause between them as Morpheus turned his head back to the window pondering on something. He remembered that he and Matthew had already had a similar conversation like this a few weeks ago. It started all with Matthew sharing tales of past loves and the consequences of hesitating, of not considering what two lovers might regret if they continued to hold back.

It's then when Matthew had said:

"Lady Y/N is rather fond of you, and she has a heart of gold, she does."

Morpheus had glanced at Matthew, his expression softening ever so slightly. "She is a remarkable woman," he'd admitted.

"Indeed, she is," Matthew had agreed. "And I think she deserves to know how you truly feel about her."

The Dream Lord had averted his gaze, but Matthew could tell he was considering the raven's words. "I do not wish to burden her with my emotions," Morpheus said quietly.

"Ah, but emotions are not burdens, my lord," Matthew had said wisely. "They are the very essence of life. And Y/N is no stranger to the complexities of feelings. You may find that she's quite perceptive when it comes to matters of the heart."

And that was how the conversation had ended as Morpheus didn't respond and just took his leave saying something about important work to do in the Dreaming.

Having this memory in mind, Morpheus sighed, his defenses weakening. "Perhaps you are right, Matthew" he admitted with a soft distance voice. "But I..."

Matthew hopped closer, a comforting presence. He was listening closely, though he didn't like another but that he heard today. When his lord hesitated to finish his sentence, Matthew decided to respond because he already knew what this but was about.

"Y/N cares for you deeply, and I believe she would welcome your affections."

Morpheus was about to respond when Matthew's beak slipped, and he couldn't stop the next words that spilled out. "She cares for you more than you know, my lord. In fact, she's quite smitten with you."

Morpheus froze, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing his features. "Smitten, you say?" he inquired, unable to hide his interest.

"Oh, yes!" Matthew said, trying to recover from his little slip-up. "It's evident in the way she looks at you, the way she lights up when you're near. It's quite enchanting to see."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Morpheus's lips. "Enchanting, you say?"

Matthew nodded, now unable to conceal his excitement. "Absolutely, my lord! She adores you, and I dare say she wouldn't mind knowing how you feel about her."

Morpheus took a moment to process the revelation, his mind racing with possibilities. "Perhaps... I should tell her," he murmured.

Matthew couldn't contain his joy and relief. "I think that would be a marvelous idea, my lord!" he exclaimed. "Love is a rare and beautiful gift. Don't let it slip away."

The Dream Lord gave a slight nod, his heart warming to the idea. "Thank you, Matthew," he said sincerely. "Your counsel has been invaluable."

Matthew beamed with pride. "You're welcome, my lord."

And with newfound determination, Morpheus left the room, leaving Matthew to bask in his success. The raven knew he had played a small part in bringing the two souls together, and he couldn't be happier for them.

[roxannepolice]

Rant 1/waiting for the department head to open his bloody e-mail/TDF doesn't work, really

The Doctor Falls is literally the highest graded Master episode on IMDB, and I'm not denying that it's a good episode, and also know that for some it is there that they like the Saxon Master best, but tbh for me it just doesn't work. Or perhaps works, but in that weird way where a work meant to send one message gets celebrated in a completely contradicotry way, Don Quixote style. Yes, Simm!Master's fans have been critcising it since 2017 as erasing his story in s3-4 (and tbc, I am pissed at the the way in which the Blasting of Rassilon was framed by Twelve, also bad at driving? the guy who repeatedly went back and forth between the end of the universe and 2007 UK? coming from the "oh I might have missed my mark by a few centuries" guy?), to which it is questioned if he really had a development, to which others ask if Missy had an actual development, and so on and so forth, but to me the problems go way, way deeper. At the same time, I always welcome pointing out if I missed something and general criticism (consider it a practice in waiting for the comments from my supervisors)!

First off, a simple question: did the Doctor have an actual plan that involved the Masters, or he was just expecting them to happily turn his sacrifical suicide into an expanded one for no practical reason??? Like, his only plan is "and then someone stays here and blows up the entire platform so Cybermen can't get higher up, and that's gonna be me because I'm dying and tired". So did he want the Masters to "stand with him" to, what die too? Leave with the colonists - and then what, live as retired alcoholic gunmen farmers, Clint Eastwood-style? Because the part where the colonists get away was achieved anyway! I guess they could get up to the Doctor's TARDIS all the way up and then even go fetch him, but I suppose that would elbow the sacrificial part away. Also, the option where at least some of the colonists pack themselves into those lifts and everyone gets onboard the Master's TARDIS is like. There. And wouldn't those guys know where more lifts were, like that's how they got to the level in the first place???

I'm not saying you can't headcanon an alternative plan that the Doctor had, but it sure as hell wasn't communicated to the audience, which, to clarify, I am focusing on here, like I'm analysing the episode as a work of fiction that someone was in charge of, not a documentary of strategic mistakes done by people under pressure.

Second: Missy just had to, had to, keep her plans a secret from the Doctor. Why???? I don't even have much to elaborate on here, I just could never understand this, and a more serious problem here is:

Why did Missy have to kill Saxon in the first place??? Like, seriously. Why. Do you really look at this guy and think he would have thought twice about running away on his own if he got to the lift and noticed she wasn't there??? Oh yeah, but "he's worried about his future!". Well everyone would be if they saw their future standing in awe of the protagonist doing exposition for ten years of your own timeflow, but frankly I just can't see this guy as not prioritising the here and now of his own (very nice) ass needing to run! Like, was he actively STOPPING HER from staying with the Doctor? No, he just strolled the fuck away without turning back! Oh, but maybe Missy knows he has to die now to regenerate into her, so it's all about keeping the timeline going. Soooo, she does remember these events after all? The Master went out of plot timeline overlapping induced memory loss at just the right moment to realise he's dying of a stab wound on a Mondasian colony ship, but also to already be onboard the TARDIS? Very convenient. Again, I wouldn't be raging if this was actually communicated, but it wasn't.

Which finally leads me to Missy's "sacrifice". What sacrifice? No, really, did her death actually change anything, because that's like the definition of a sacrifice? Leaving aside the whole problem of whether or not the Masters staying with the Doctor would have changed anything, Saxon was letting her get away until she started talking about her reasons for staying. Which she did because?... Like, again, it's not like either of them is going to remember anything of this. Yeah, but it needed to be communicated for the audience. Ok, then this is exactly when bad writing steps in. Like, if you need the characters to do something incredibly illogical for the audience's sake then you didn't write it in a way that would be naturally incorporated into the story.

Missy didn't sacrifice herself. She died of character exposition. She crashed into the fourth wall like a bird into glass door. She's shuffled off her screentime coil, run down the literal curtain, and joined the bleedin' incidental music orchestra invisible. She's not pushing daisies only because BBC's budget didn't include them.

Ok, I railed myself up, but really, the fact that Missy's death is usually framed as a sacrifice is one of those moment where I literally wonder if there are some glaring version differences between the episode I watched and that watched by everyone else.

But you know, I get it. As the Doctor explicitly laid out in his speech (which is its own can of worms on whether it's logically solid, that I'll get down to while waiting for my principal to open his bloody e-mail), this is not about winning, this is about doing the kind thing. Which is where the actually interesting interpretation of The Doctor Falls comes in. Which is the clash between deontological and utilitarian ethics.

Crash course: deontological ethics relies on viewing certain acts as good or evil by their very nature, while utilitarianism wages moral value in reference to some specific goal, which is not neccessarily "gain", but for example, preserving the lives of as many people as possible. To use the trolley dilemma (which is a thought experiment! it's meant to illustrate things, you're really not doing a "gotcha!" by asking about mass transport quality and regulations, though I appreciate this as a rethoric device), a deontologist will say reverting the train to one person instead of five is wrong, because at this point it becomes murder, while an utilitarianist will say reverting is right, because more people are saved than killed. To use a less cliche and reconfigured example, is it moral to blow up a planet if that's the only way to stop a war that's literally warping time into nonexistence? I've argued elsewhere that the deontology vs. utilitarianism is also the contrast made by John Smith vs. professor Yana. Yeah, I know the usual reading is "oh, look, the Doctor can be kind of a dick and the Master a good person!", but if you scratch down to the bottom of things, it's more the case of "the Doctor will focus on the values of people they identify with and the Master will focus on a goal; should they land in an environment where they will respectively identify with bigots, and have only one goal left in the universe and that's preserving life, they will be how they ended up being". Self-sacrifice becomes a matter of calculating yourself as the most expendable party.

In TDF, the Doctor is placed on the deontological side of the dilemma by everything he says during his speech(tm): it's kind. It just is, by its very nature. And to clarfiy for the pissing on poor website: I am not denying this! This is a very, very soild point! What I do argue is that Saxon Master isn't just being very bad because he never heard the music uwu, but that there's an ethical standpoint to his actions too! He's an utilitarianist, as the Master's always been! Why, just why is it wrong to mind control people if they clearly can't make the right choices on their own? Why is absolute power evil if individual will keeps going astray? Why is it wrong to body posses people if this saves my own life? Why shouldn't I change history if there are very good people in need of saving? Why shouldn't I run away if the only plan to save others will include me dying and no gain in return?

Again, the Doctor's speech is its own can of worms, but arguably the biggest leap done there is jumping from guilt vs. shame to "to thy own self be true" arguments. When you think of the Master as a utilitarianist... it's Saxon who fell where he stood. He stood on the side of "This is a pointless endeavour and I reject pointless. And if I'm to become someone who goes for pointless, then I won't be myself anyway and I might as well die." Absolutely not the intended reading, but death of the author, baby.

[pinbitch]

"and i am CONVINCED that it was azazel scheming to put someone else on the throne of hell to BLOCK lucifer’s ascension from the cage" literally stopped and stared bc i've never heard this one before, can you please elaborate

oh yes! i love this theory! be prepared for a LONG ANSWER

so basically imo the boyking and lucifer’s vessel arcs don’t entirely mesh. why go through all the trouble of creating all the special children and having them compete when sam is the one who HAS to be lucifer’s vessel? what’s the point of creating a monarch who is powerful enough and motivated to rule hell in their own right if they’re just gonna be possessed by lucifer? and why still be feeding babies demon blood in series 1? we know lucifer told azazel to find a child, to find his vessel, but having that child rule hell as the demons were expecting per the boyking comment doesn’t make sense. why would the winner of azazel’s contest ever give up their power and their BODY to be lucifer’s puppet? it doesn’t make sense

so, what does? (or at least is fun and interesting to think about)

i’ve always though demons as a whole should have been more conniving. the hell politics we got were always too simplistic. where are the SCHEMES. surely crowley wasn’t the only one who realised that lucifer had an even lower opinion of demons than of humanity and didn’t want him ruling?

azazel knew lucifer personally, was created by lucifer personally. he knows exactly what lucifer is like, so why wouldn’t he have an accurate understanding of how fucked demonkind would be if lucifer came back and the apocalypse started? also, he’s running hell, why would he want to give up that power? but he’d also want plausible deniability, both so he could control the demons who still support lucifer (like lilith and his own daughter meg!) and also on the off chance he failed and lucifer did rise

which leads us to the special children. this is where i get more into the realm of headcanon in terms of what hell is actually like, but i still think it tracks with the show. the descriptions of hell and the visuals of hell we get are all wildly different. crowley’s queue, dean’s pit, sam’s medieval dungeon, meg’s bone and blood and pain. they’re different enough that i think hell changes based in your perception. either to what will make you suffer the most (dean and meg), or if you’re powerful enough what you tell it to be (crowley very much on purpose, sam subconsciously. he created hell into somewhere he could relatively easily rescue bobby from)

all this to say that hell is a living thing. it can accept or reject a ruler, and the more accepted they are the harder it is for a ruler to be deposed. if they’re integrated with hell enough they simply can’t be. lucifer as the creator of demonkind and original ruler should be the best fit and the most accepted, but lucifer doesn’t want hell, he’ll always resent being there instead of heaven, so hell will never completely accept him. and a demon will never truly be accepted either, because they’re not lucifer and they’re not an angel, so they’re not enough like him to be a fully effective substitute

but a human with demon blood? they’re closer to the divine than a demon, but they don’t know heaven to long for it. there’s every possibility that hell would accept that special child more than azazel and more than lucifer, and because that child has the full power and support of the creature that is hell they might be able to hold the cage closed even with lilith’s death, or simply stop lucifer from taking power in hell once he’s risen, or even outright kill lucifer

so with that in mind, of course sam is the favourite. azazel is gambling here so he’s keeping his options open with multiple candidates, but lucifer’s true vessel is always gonna have the best chance of being accepted by hell and taking lucifer’s place. as long as he can control sam he’s coming up roses

but then azazel dies, and i don't see him trusting his true plans and motivations to any other demon, so they all just play out the apocalypse like they thought they were supposed to from the start. except for the crowleys (and in my headcanon ruby but that’s a question for when i finally finish and publish kindred instruments rip) who are smart enough to figure out that lucifer views them as vaguely useful cockroaches

obviously this is a watsonian answer to a doylist question, but i always find those the most fun anyway

[melobin]

Helloo ^^-^^ im the anon that sent the tall protective bsf sungchan req, and ever since then HAVE I BEEN HAVING BRAINROT 😭😭😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 SO if u don't mind lemme share them w u 🤭

Kinda see sungchan and reader in this scenario as became bsfs at college, and the girl is like super shy, reserved and quiet in public, but actually she can be a littleeee crazy ! Like them meeting st uni, and becoming bsfs, being tied at rhe hip ever since then. Then she has her own apartment and he has his etc.

I can see him like always taking care of her, esp if she doesnt have a good relo w her parents (sorry kinda projecting rn 🫣), and just always being there for her!! People on campus thinking twice before approaching her cuz sungchans the tall scwry boy standing behind her! Im sorry ik this sounds so cliche and cringy but idk how to word it properly 😢😢😢😢

Him always being there for her, dropping her home, taking her to parties with him, even showing up at her dates when she sends a "channie my dates kinda weird can u come get me :((" message. There were times where he also went to get her at midnight 😭😭😭 srsly he loves her sm !

And ofc the reader also likes him, but they never acknowledge it, just keeping it calm and chill. Sungchan randomly calling her to come over to study and then her ending up falling asleep there cuddled w him.

Srslyyyy i need sungchan 😔😔😔😔 🙏

Him alwahs being there for her in any situation, talking to everyone else rudely and swearing at them but just being so soft w her!! Ahh i swear i could write more when they eventually turn into lovers but I'll stop 🤕🤭🤭

Please elaborate on this if u can, cux my writing sounds so cringy maybe u can make it sound better ekekek💀💀

Alsooo can i pls be 🥐 anon!

yes welcome !! and your writing is not cringy i love your ideas so bad !!!!! i love this so bad !!!

the friends to lovers arc it would so obvious to everyone but the two of you. anyone would be able to see the way you look at each other and how desperately you want each other, it’d be cute. could imagine the feelings coming out one night after a particularly bad date of yours, you’d be sat on a bench in the park, the moon and the street lamps barely lighting up the area around you. you’d just cave, asking him if it would be weird that you wished he was your date instead and him pretty much instantly jumping at you and saying he would’ve given anything to be the guy you went out with and it’s in that moment that you both just look down and realise how blind you’ve been … if you think bsf sungchan would be protective than boyfriend sungchan would be unreal

[sunnynwanda]

Uccellino

"So that's who you are!" Hero exclaims, stepping out of the shadows behind Villain with their mask in hand. How the hell did you get into my lair?

"Excuse me?" Is all Villain mutters, not turning around because of the lack of said mask on their face. They didn't bother wearing it at home, mostly for comfort, but also because Hero never dared to sneak into their lair.

"When you said your job was unconventional, I imagined a lot of things, but none of them included you battling me bi-weekly, Uccellino." The use of the nickname given to them by their lover stills the blood in their veins. Did Hero take them? Hurt them?

"What the hell are you talking about?" They snarl, fingers curling into fists.

"You still haven't figured it out?" Hero's voice is cheerful and, to be fair, painfully familiar when they speak softly instead of the usual anger-fueled snaps. "For a genius of a villain, you sure are quite slow, amore."

Villain froze. They could feel their heart pounding against their ribcage in an uneven rhythm. This could not be true. They could not be Hero. Not when Villain finally found someone they connected with so easily. So quickly. Come to think of it, that should have alerted them. They clicked too fast. Hell, they started living together after the third date!

Villain turned to face Hero, noting the satisfied grin on their handsome face. That damned enchanting smile that left no choice for them but to agree to a date. Just one, Villain had thought. What could go wrong?

When they had arrived for their first date, Villain expected to be bored within the first fifteen minutes. They ended up spending the entire night stargazing and telling stories from their childhood. The second time Hero asked them out was when they were ordering breakfast the next morning. Villain's mouth was full, and Hero had taken their silence as a yes and smiled. They couldn't find it in them to refuse after being graced with that smile. Not while they were battling the urge to grab their face and kiss those plush lips.

Needless to say, their second date ended with a heated makeout session in a closed art gallery that left Villain breathless and not minding a third date. They were too lovesick to realise it was moving all too fast. Hero had asked them over. They made a delicious dinner together and were supposed to watch a movie, a mutual favourite.

Well, they didn't get to that movie after they accidentally kissed Hero, who took the prompt, pinning them to the nearest wall and kissing them senseless. Senseless it was. Their entire relationship could be described by that word alone. They never got to leave that day, spending the night and the subsequent morning in Hero's bed. And the next night. Only ten days later did they realise they hadn't slept at home for almost two weeks.

They meet Hero's unwavering (and fond) gaze. "Did you know?"

"You mean from the start?" Villain nods tightly. Their head is spinning, but Hero has no business knowing that. "Of course not."

"Then why?" They question with a flat expression, and Hero isn't sure if they want to slap them or kiss their worries away.

"Then why what? Why did I ask you out?" Villain nods again. Hero rakes a hand through their hair to keep them busy and away from their favourite cretino. "I don't know, maybe 'cause I was attracted to you. Did that never cross your mind, amore?"

"Stop calling me that!" They finally snap, and Hero is thankful for the emotion. Now they know it wasn't an elaborate corruption plan on either side.

"I will call you whatever I feel like calling you." They claim smug as ever, taking a step towards their lover. Villain draws back a bit.

"Get out of my house!" They command, pressing their lips into a thin line. The demand is met with a look of utter resolution. "You have no power over me, Hero."

"You sure about that?" Hero almost purrs, sending a shiver down Villain's smile.

They reach them in two long strides, grasping their wrists and pressing them to their sides before Villain can react. Not that Villain could react while pressed flush against Hero's body with their lips within reach. Their gaze flicks down to Villain's lips, and that is all it takes for them to throw every inhibition out the window and crush their mouth against Hero's smiling one. Their now free hands move the mask away from Hero's face, discarding it on the floor. When they finally part, Hero's lips are red, swollen and smiling brightly. Villain can't help but reciprocate it with an equally giddy grin when Hero nuzzles into their neck, whispering softly.

"Cause you sure have power over me, Uccellino."

Masterlist

[mohabbaat]

i think it has more to do with the swifties. i could be wrong but have you SEEN swifties? most of them literally do not deserve the right to free speech. (ik what i said and i stand by this) they're racist, ignorant and misogynistic (yes.) and they don't even respect HER privacy, let alone anyone who's associated with her. won't elaborate, one could literally write an essay about it lol. and coming to taylor, yes the album releases are overwhelming and the songs are just okay, with a few bangers maybe, and whenever someone points it out there's always a swiftie screaming "you just can't see a woman succeed" like, no?? criticizing taylor does not amount to misogyny or hate. and come on, seeing one person in the limelight whilst your fav artists who might just be equally deserving (or more, even) rot on the sidelines must feel really bad. taylor giving the excuse that her plane was used by other celebs and that she pays for carbon offsetting was so lame i had second hand embarrassment. i still love her music but it doesn't mean i would blindly defend her and justify everything, it's just really disgusting.

i have heard like 3 of her new songs so won't be judging the music but some her fans are just... unbearable. like she isn't a god and people have the right to criticize her. like i said before, as a celebrity she expects to be called out as much as she expects people to love her. it's a part of being famous.

also the funniest thing about some of her fans is that for so long they have been all "taylor is more than her exes!!!" and now they themselves keep equating her music and her worth to the guy she is dating. every song must be related to her ex. every lyric must be about an event that they are very well aware of. like maybe realise that you don't know everything that happened and there's a chance that you are completely misreading the room? why are you so obsessed with her private life? get a job? touch some grass? idk.

[desultory-novice]

[Mechalor AU Anon] looked at the therapist ask and it made me think "oh they don't need one, they have the dream fountain" (except Susie lol) but then I realised something.

Do you think any of the characters have complaints about the Dream Fountain? An ancient magical object that interacts with people's minds and hides their darkest thoughts, despite being something made for positivity, would probably give some bad vibes to others. Magalor for obvious reasons (Ancient artifact that messes with minds), Taranza for less obvious reasons (Sectonja and the mirror flashbacks), honestly I feel all the non-natives would have issues with it whilst the dreamland residents are just used to the thing.

OMG! That idea?!? But seriously, you have my attention with that!

Actually though, now that you bring it up...

...This brings to mind a certain Pixiv doujin I really liked where (pre-remake)  Magolor admits to Kirby he absolutely hates the Dream Fountain since settling on Popstar, because it shows him only nice dreams of being friends with everybody, and he both knows that cannot ever be true while also feeling like the fountain is constantly bombarding him with his sins and mistakes. Because Magolor could have had all this from the beginning if only he wasn't... him.

(I'm elaborating a little. It does all end happily, btw.)

But it's fascinating, isn't it? By this point, we've got a larger handful of characters know who have core character personality flaws, rooted deep down in them. And how many of them would like to see only good dreams versus how many of them would consider being forced to see good dreams as some sort of ironic punishment...?

Maybe one could headcanon that Magolor likes to sleep on the Lor because he can use the Starcutter's technology to "jam" the Dream Fountain's signals to keep it messing from his mind and his dreams? (At least until he is ready to have good dreams > Manager Magolor.)

And you're right that characters like Taranza might not like to have "good" dreams only to wake up to a colder reality. Susie too.

Would the Jambandrans also consider it something unwanted, since it affects the mind and the sisters just got done with Hyness losing his mind? (Or is he someone who is affected by it in a positive way? The influx of positivity helping to drain some of his eons of anger?)

Whereas I could see most of Wave 1 and Wave 2 really just having a good time with no fear of nightmares to be had. (Daroach would obviously be dreaming of treasure. Adeleine of seeing imaginative new vistas and painting even better masterpieces. The animal friends of lasting days of peace and fun on Popstar...)

I could even see a (normal and not heavily headcannon'd) Marx happily daydreaming about the fun he'd have on Popstar if only he'd succeeded in owning it in his dreams only to wake up in the morning reinvigorated to beat Kirby once and for all and get his wish...!

So yes, I definitely agree the Popstarians would be the most at home with it, but I think the outsiders might be a solid mix of "...This is useful!" and "Please tell it to stop messing with my mind!"

(Then again, Milky Way Wishes shows us that there are Dream Fountains on planets other than Popstar. So while Taranza might be confused by it's effects, highly traveled people like Susie might be like, "Oh THOSE meddling things! I know how to deal with them!" :puts on pair of dream muffling headphones: (c) HWC)

[wayfaringhoax]

Snippet from Plans

Javier Peña x Female Reader

A/N: Got a Javi oneshot coming later this week, and I'm so unbelievably excited about it! Ahhh!!

Trope: opposites attract / enemies to lovers (more like work acquaintances that don't get along)

Summary: Javier Peña is slowly but surely becoming a thorn in your side. He just can't seem to leave you alone at work, and you're starting to realise that dismantling your plans is his top priority.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, bribing colleagues at work. (full fic will be explicit, 18+)

“How about you fast-track these...” He suggests, holding the papers up again. “And in exchange, I’ll buy you a drink.”

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, that seems fair.”

“That would also require me going to a bar with you, outside of working hours.”

You don’t need to elaborate. Javier knows you’d never willingly do such a thing. 

“You see.” He drawls. “That’s where you’re wrong. A few little birdies on the third floor told me you’ve got plans this evening. If I just happen to be in the area…well, I think our arrangement can still be fulfilled.” 

Your ears heat up in embarrassment. You didn’t like the thought that this man knew what you got up to outside of work. In your head, colleagues were colleagues, not friends. You liked to keep your work life completely separate from your personal life, and frankly, you didn’t want him trying to weasel his way in there. But something told you he wasn’t going to let this go.

It wasn’t like you’d advertised your plans. The women from communications had hounded you in the break room when they noticed you’d had your hair done.

It would’ve been unprofessional to ignore them, so eventually, you’d let it slip that a few of your friends from home were visiting, and you all planned to head into town for some drinks. 

And they had fussed over you like you were a newborn. Of course, you assumed it was because you typically kept to yourself at work, and it simply gave them something to gossip about; someone’s life to pry into where they could.

When did you get so cynical?

Snapping out of the memory, you busy yourself with organising your desk drawer. 

“Let me guess.” You say dryly, preoccupied with the task at hand. “You’ll be drinking alone?”

He raises his eyebrows in good humour. “Not if you’re there.”

“Fast-track’s gonna cost you more than one drink, Peña.” You tell him, your voice taking on a singsong quality as you avoid making eye contact. 

“And I’m not drinking with you. I have friends, believe it or not.”

“What will it take?” He asks. Javier almost looks intrigued; he didn’t think you’d budge.

“Well, there’s six of us. So three bottles of something should be about right.”

Javier sighs. Why does it cost money to get anything done around here? 

“Wine?” He asks you, his voice now sounding significantly more unimpressed.

“Am I that easy to read?” You say incredulously. There goes yet another thing he now knows about you.

Yes, he thinks. But he wouldn’t dare tell you that, too scared to poke the bear since you were so close to giving him what he wants. Javier stays silent, opting to give you a knowing look instead.

Finally, you look his way, and your eyes pierce into him. He's not sure if he’s turned on or scared shitless. Or perhaps, both? 

Taking the papers from his grasp, you dangle them over the tray marked as “priority”, and his eyes lock on the movement of your hands like a cat chasing a laser. 

“If this means you’ll leave me alone …” You say, looking to him for confirmation of your agreement. 

Javier raises both of his hands at that, holding his palms out in surrender. You squint at him in apprehension, before dropping the forms into the tray.

As he makes his way out of your office, he turns back to address you, and you’re not at all surprised when the DEA’s Country Attaché winks at you. 

“I’ll see you there.” He tells you.

“Unfortunately.”

More to come in the next few days! Please let me know if you're interested in being tagged in the completed fic. <3

[love-iathan]

Sweet Boy

Masterlist | Seelie Key

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Character(s): Wanderer, Ei (brief)

Reader: Gender Neutral, Creator

Warning(s): Does not follow cannon

Word Count: 1681

Note(s): I wrote this on and off while I was sick, like 2 weeks ago, so it might be garbage and all over the place :)

You peacefully watched the rain storm, the downpour watering your crops. Suddenly pulled from your daydream by a knock at the door, you walked over and opened it, preparing to reprimand whomever disturbed you. Stopping in your tracks when you realised it was Ei, who was holding a much smaller boy in her arms.

"Your Grace, I've made a mistake." Hearing Ei admit to such a thing was unheard of.

Allowing her into your home, you sat at the table. "Who's the child?" You asked, gesturing to the seat across from you.

With a bit of hesitation, Ei sat down, the boy cradled in her lap. "Do you remember when I asked your permission to make a puppet?"

"I do," you replied, growing a bit concerned where this was going.

Ei's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. After a few seconds of silence, she finally got the words out. "I can't force him to be my puppet."

Cocking an eyebrow, you reached over to your teapot, pouring both of you a cup. "Care to elaborate?"

Once again, she looked like a fish out of water, trying to organise her thoughts. "Last night, he shed tears. I'd never forgive myself if I forced him to be my puppet."

Slowly gathering the main issue, you chuckled. "All of you have always had such complex emotions, whether you'd like to admit it or not." You joked, referring to her and the rest of the Archons. "You think of him as your son, don't you?"

Ei's silence said it all. "Your Grace, what should I do?" She seemed to grow more distressed as time went on.

"Well, you have a few options. 1, you can keep him, raise him, not as a puppet, but as your son. Create a new puppet using what you've learned making him. 2, let fate decide what should happen to him."

"Do you mean abandon him?" She asked, almost panicked, forgetting her manners. With a gasp, she whispered, "my apologies."

"Or, 3, let him be your puppet, as originally planned, and let him prove his worth."

Ei sighed, looking down at her puppet. "It's not that he isn't worthy, Your Grace." She trailed off, uncomfortable with needing to make this choice, wishing you'd just do it for her.

"Ei, I know this is a difficult decision for you to make, but I cannot make it for you. I also can't take him," you sipped on your tea. "Me taking him would be equivalent to creating another Archon, which could potentially lead to a 2nd Archon War. I'm sorry dear Ei, but I cannot risk that."

Ei sighed, knowing you were right, asking you to take on the boy would be disrespectful.

Walking around the table to stand next to her, you placed your hand on her shoulder. "Drink your tea and give it some thought. You both may stay here tonight, I hope you have your decision by tomorrow."

The next day, you saw Ei in the same spot you left her last night, although the boy was sleeping on the futon in the living area. Despite her not needing sleep, she had dark bags under her eyes, as if she'd been up for days. "Ei, are you alright?"

Startled by your question, she jumped, "yes, my apologies, Your Grace. I've just been thinking about what I should do."

"Well, it's still quite early, how about we eat something and then we'll discuss your options more in depth."

With a quick nod, you began making something simple. Dishing out 3 portions, you set Ei's in front of her, one in your spot and the last at the end of the table. You walked into the living area, slowly approaching the still sleeping boy.

Kneeling down, you gently shook him awake. "Sweetheart? Wake up, you should eat something." Being this close to him for the first time, you really noticed the resemblance between him and Ei.

The boy slowly opened his eyes, the same purple as his mother. "Hello." He said meekly.

You smiled, taking his hand. "Come over here, eat with us." He followed you, visibly relaxing when he saw Ei, a familiar face. Gesturing to the table, you sat down, waiting for him to sit as well. Ei sat in silence, staring at her plate. "You may eat, now."

Ei picked up her cutlery, eating in silence. The boy looked between you and Ei in confusion; as far as he knew, Ei was the most powerful being alive. So why did she only begin eating after you allowed it? Who exactly were you, and why did Ei seem on edge around you? Almost scared of you.

"All of your questions will be answered in due time." You affirmed, seemingly reading his mind.

The three of you ate in silence, although questions raced through his head. Would it be rude to ask them? If you were so powerful, surely you'd punish him for speaking out of turn. Deciding to keep his questions to himself for now, he finished his food, opting to look around himself.

Taking in his surrounding, he was startled to hear Ei's voice. "Your Grace," although her voice was barely above a whisper, you looked up from your plate. "I believe I've made my decision." She trailed off, quickly grabbing a cup, which he assumed was water and downing it.

You smiled at her. "Wonderful. We will speak about it later."

The boy, now known as Scaramouche, was abandoned by his mother, his creator. His last "happy" memory with her was the night he ate with you both. Scaramouche grew to despise you as well. He believed you'd been the one to convinced Ei to leave him, abandon him.

If you created Teyvat, knew everything that was going to happen, and had the power to change the course of history, why didn't you change his destiny? Why did you knowing allow Ei to abandoned him? It didn't make since to him. While still the innocent and curious kabukimono, he'd hoped that you'd come looking for him and take him to your home.

As the days past him by, he'd realised he wasn't wanted, so he gave up, the last of his innocence leaving him when the young boy betrayed him. His heart grew cold, leaving Inazuma, and the pain it cause him, behind.

Centuries later, you heard news from Sumeru that the Akademiya's Sages were attempting to create an Archon, using none other than Scaramouche. Having rarely left your home since his creation, you didn't know that Sumeru didn't have an active Archon, so when you arrived to aid the blonde traveler, you didn't recognise the small God.

After Scaramouche's defeat, you spoke to the Archon and traveler, learning their names. The traveler told you everything they knew up to this point, about Scaramouche, his life as the Balladeer, and the Sage's plans. "Neither of you need to worry about him, he'll be fine. Nahida, would you mind keeping an eye on him? He's going to be quite weak when he wakes up. I'll come collect him once he's awake."

The Dendro Archon agrees, with a bit of hesitation, understandably so; the puppet had just tried to overtake her position as Archon. When Scaramouche finally woke up, Nahida called for you to collect him. While he was still delirious, he recognised you immediately, trying to get away from you.

Seeing him, you sauntered right up to him, taking his face into your hands gently. "Ah, you've grown so much. I just wish your life hadn't gone down such a dark path."

Irritated, Scaramouche slapped your hands away. "If you're so sorry, why didn't you stop it from happening?" He shouted, turning his back to you.

"It was too dangerous. I wouldn't have been able to ensure Teyvat's, or even your, safety." You turned him back around, one hand on his shoulder. "I remember the night Ei brought you to my home; you were so innocent."

The words felt degrading, yet somehow warm. "Why did you let her abandon me?" His aggressive tone shifted to a vaguely vulnerable one, his voice wavering ever-so slightly.

With a deep breath, you pulled him into your chest, listening as he struggled to hold back tears. "Ei was very attached to you, even though it only been a few days. She didn't want you to be forced into a life of servitude, but she didn't want you to feel as though you'd been replaced."

"I don't... I don't understand," he mumbled.

Running your fingers through his hair, you pulled him tighter against you. "I'm sure you know you were created to be Ei's puppet, but the night before she brought you to me, you cried in your sleep." You rested your chin on his head. "She was worried that, that if she went through with her plan to make you her puppet, you'd be unhappy."

Scaramouche continued to try and push you away for a few minutes before giving in and crying into your chest. "Why was I not good enough?"

"Oh, sweet boy, you are more than enough. That night," you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "Ei and I wanted you to decide your own fate, let you forge your own path through life. Had I known she'd leave you alone without talking to you about our decision, I would have intervened."

"What?" Confused, the ex-Harbinger pulled away from you.

Wiping the stray tears from his cheeks, "I didn't learn what happened to you until after Ei made the Raiden Shogun, even then, I had to ask. She was still upset about her sister's death, it's not a excuse and she was punished justly."

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

You smiled, "for what, darling? You didn't nothing wrong."

"I've hurt so many people. Killed so many people. I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, look at me," you lifted his chin. "You were hurting. While it is no more an excuse than Ei's, it is an explanation. You just need to be prepared for the consequences, sweet boy."

Using "x male reader" tags to summon the audience I want 🙏

[manicpixiefelix]

do you ever write something and you get to a point where you realise you have to turn back because you don't think the story you want is at the end of the series of events you're currently writing? but you're also not entirely sure and you kind of like the grit it's got with the direction it's going??

anyways trying to figure out if I can add Oliver manipulating the reader emotionally in a way that leaves them upset but desperate to prove themselves to him, in a way that doesn't spiral past the point of no return and away from a happy ending. I need to put it to a vote (it's not going to come into effect for a few chapters but I may have to start laying some serious groundwork in the leadup)

[hypersonic04]

Part Three:

Part three, enjoy! Also, two things - I listened to False God by Taylor Swift on repeat as I wrote this, and I feel like things are moving fast between the two of them but I really struggle to write stuff where they aren't flirty so I'm sorry for the sudden progression.

Word count: 2,547

"We're having a get-together kind of thing tonight, by the way. Feel free to come," Adam mentions as we head out of the studio. Yet again, we've stayed far too late, editing and cutting bits of recordings together and changing lyrics. This has become a routine, of sorts, over the past three weeks.

"I might take you up on that offer, if you don't mind." I smile.

"It's just a thing for the label, drinks and stuff. I'll send you the details and everything."

We say our goodbyes, heading home in my now-fixed car, thank God. I don't think I could have coped with any more awkward car journeys with Ross.

Unsurprisingly, he's remained very involved over the past few weeks. It's taken every ounce of willpower in me to not walk out most days. If it's not a riff I've suggested, it's the way I've crossed out a line on a piece of paper.

Once I get home and Adam has sent me the address to the bar we're meeting at, I begin to get ready in a rush. Clouds of perfume and hairspray fill the room. I hurry my make up and haphazardly curl my hair, deciding that the messy look I've unintentionally managed to create is part of the cool-girl vibe I'm attempting to emulate. The black v-neck and leather mini-skirt seem appropriate for the event, yet I find myself overthinking everything when I remember that he's going to be there. Shoving my feet into some platform Doc's, I call a cab and wait.

The bar is so cool. Neon lights, moody chandeliers, a great playlist - the exact type of spot you would expect Matty to pick. I can already tell it's busy in there as the car pulls up, groups of people dangerously close to spilling drinks as they laugh and talk between themselves. The boom of the speakers buzzes under my feet as I make my way in, slipping past people and heading straight for the bar, feeling like the only sober person in there.

"What can I get you?"

I feel my mouth fall open as I recognise the bartender.

"Tom, oh my god!" I smile, half unsure how to navigate this situation. It's not every day that your ex-boyfriend serves you in a bar.

"Nice to see you too." He grins and I struggle to find words. "How have you been?"

"I've been good, yeah, really good." I smile, nodding. "How about you?"

"Yeah, same." He purses his lips in a soft, almost relieved smile. Our split was amicable - it hadn't been working for a while, and it made no sense for us to carry on trying to make it work.

"Are you here alone?" He frowns with a strange sort of chuckle escaping his lips.

"No," I laugh breathlessly, "It's a work thing."

"A work thing, huh?" He grins as he starts making a drink. I nod awkwardly, not really wanting to elaborate, for some reason. I'm not sure why, it's not like he can't know, right? Why wouldn't I want to tell him about the boys?

He hands me a cocktail glass filled to the brim with something that looks like it's going to give me a headache. I wince at it without even trying it.

"It's good, I promise," He gives me a toothy smile. "It's on the house."

"Tom, I can't let you give me this for free."

"Yes, you can. Consider it a 'congratulations on the work thing'." He runs a hand through his black hair and nods at me, and I realise that he won't take no for an answer as he shoos me away.

"Well, thank you." I tilt my head to the side and smile, leaving to find the table.

I spot them across the other side of the room, immediately noticing the huge smile on Ross' as he talks to Matty about something. They're sat at a table full of empty beer bottles already, and an ice bucket filled with Prosecco in the middle.

"You made it!" Matty immediately breaks off his conversation with Ross when he spots me making my way over.

"I made it." I laugh, accepting his hug and making a conscious effort not to spill my drink down the back of his very-expensive-looking suit jacket.

"Who were you talking to at the bar, eh?" He teases as he pulls away.

"None of your business." I joke. He raises his eyebrows with a smirk and I shake my head, swatting his assumptions away immediately. "It was my ex-boyfriend, it was nothing."

"Guys, Iris' ex-boyfriend works here." he decides to announce to the table. Adam lets out an airy chuckle in reply, shaking his head.

I notice Ross take a swig from the bottle of Desperado in his hand, avoiding eye contact as I glance at him. His broad shoulders are tense as he darts his eyes around the room, or rather it feels like anywhere else except me.

"Maybe he'll give us free drinks for the rest of the night." Jamie suggests, joining in on the conversation.

"Do not use my ex-boyfriend as a means of saving money, you cheapskates." I laugh, taking a seat on the plush, green sofa pushed up against the wall. Ross is sat across the table from me, and I realise that not only has the wide smile he'd had on his face disappeared, but that he was also yet to say anything upon my arrival.

The drinks flow easily, and I find myself downing cocktail after cocktail, swaying along to the music and having a good time. A recipe for disaster, really.

Looking down at my glass, I realise it's empty. The drinks had, in fact, been free all night, courtesy of Tom, and mojitos on the house is not a good thing for me to have knowledge of.

"Back again already?" He smirks from the other side of the bar, that familiar shiny, white grin making me giggle.

"Mhm, you know it," I joke. "Same again, please."

"Do you remember that time we got drunk on mojitos?" He smiles as he shakes the mixer back and forth.

"Yeah, I do." Blush rises in my cheeks as I recall the evening. The smirk on his face suggests that he does as well.

"Maybe we could go out again some time? Get drunk on cocktails again, like the good old days?"

Before I can stumble around his offer, I feel a hand on the small of my back.

"You alright?" His voice vibrates through my body as he looms beside me, looking down at me with a strange look in his eye.

"Uh, yeah," I manage to get out, my throat feeling as though it's closing up. "This is Tom. Tom, this is Ross." I say for some reason.

They exchange an awkward smile, and I recognise the look on Tom's face, the same one he used to get when random men would try chatting me up at the bars in university. I want to protest that he doesn't have to be jealous, that Ross and I aren't together, but it's like my brain can't form a sentence, as if it almost likes the idea of it.

"Are you sure you want any more to drink?" Ross says lowly, his hand still on my back firmly. It's like somehow, despite the fabric covering my body, his rough fingertips are burning into my skin.

"Yes, Ross. Actually, I do want more to drink." I turn away from him, that familiar feeling of aggravation from his comment rising again. I turn back to Tom with what I think is a flirty grin, however it could just be the alcohol surging me with a foreign confidence. "Is there a way you can make a double mojito?" I giggle, resting my palms flat on the bar top and tilting my head.

"Anything for you." He replies, subtly winking at me.

I glance at Ross, meeting his stare. My eyes dart between his and I swallow heavily, the dim light of the bar casting shadows over his features. He's wearing a white button up, contrasting with the blackness his eyes seem to be pouring into me, his rolled up sleeve and tattooed forearm on the same bar top I feel myself leaning into. He doesn't look away from me, and I watch as his pale lips part slightly.

"Double mojito." Tom's cheery voice tears me out of the black hole I felt like I was slipping into. I see Tom looking between the two of us, his lips pursed in a way that makes it seem like he's interrupting something.

"I'll pay." Ross moves his arm in front of me, holding his card to the reader.

Before I can object, Tom has the card reader held out to him, avoiding my eye line. It's like he's making some kind of point, whether that be to himself or me, and it infuriates me. He can't stand the thought of not being in control, whether that be of the band, my ideas, God knows what.

"Thank you." I smile apologetically and take the glass, spilling a little over the edge.

Ross reaches his hand out to steady mine, his fingers warm on my skin as he softly supports the glass. His eyes are trained on the drink between our hands, and I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows stiffly.

"I can hold my own glass, Ross." I try to speak with conviction, mirroring the same sarky tone he always takes with me, but I can't. My voice comes out quiet, low.

"I know you can."

It's like we're magnets - he does everything in his power to repel me, to be my opposite in every sense, but somehow, it attracts me further, and I don't know why. He's so tall as he stands in front of me, so broad like some kind of shield from the rest of the slowly-emptying bar.

I look up at him through my lashes and the proximity that we're in makes me so much more aware of the amount I've had to drink. My head is swimming, yet somehow, he's steady in front of me.

"I can't talk to you when I'm like this." I say, slipping past him and making my way back. He stays there for a few moments and I watch his shoulders rise then fall, a sigh leaving his lips. I wonder whether he felt like he couldn't breathe then, too.

I sit cross-legged on the sofa, next to George, and despite being able to take my mind off of him earlier, it's like he's the only other person in the room now. Watching him over the rim of the glass as I take a rather large sip, we make eye contact, and I feel like the air is being sucked out of my lungs. I firmly place the glass back on the marble table before me, the sound louder than I had intended with my drunken clumsiness, and leave to get some fresh air.

I gasp for air when I get outside. The air bites at my bare legs, a cool breeze brushing my hair back. I curse myself for allowing these feelings to consume me in the way they are. In the studio, I can focus, I can distract myself from his clear disapproval of me, his need to control the decisions the band makes and push me out, but when it's just the two of us? A whole different story.

I hear the door swing open, the music flowing from the bar to the smoking area I'm currently stood in, and I know that there's only one person who could push a door open with such certainty. I think back to the first time Ross and I met.

"Can you just, I don't know, not follow me out?" I say slightly louder than I expected my voice to come out, turning around on my heel and lightly throwing my arms in the air.

"Sorry, I just-" He cuts himself off.

We stand in silence, his hands shoved in his pockets and mine crossed in front of me.

"Why did you buy my drink?" The question leaves my mouth before I can contemplate it's consequences.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he wipes a hand across his beard and looks at the ground.

"Answer me, Ross."

"I didn't think it was right that he was giving us all of the drinks for free."

"Bullshit." I laugh sarcastically. "You wouldn't even pay extra for Matty's oat milk last week."

I shake my head and kick the toe of my boot into the ground, wondering whether it would be best for me to just leave. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

"Why are you out here, Ross?" I sigh.

"I don't know. I just followed you out, I couldn't help it."

My stomach knots as I watch him. His face is serious when he looks up at me.

"You had no right to question how much I've had to drink."

"You've had a lot."

"No, I haven't, and even if I had, it's none of your business."

"You had a full bottle of white wine to yourself."

"Why are you keeping track?"

"Iris."

The way he says my name catches me off guard. I like it. It's the fact that he rarely says it at all, choosing to ignore my mere existence 90% of the time.

"Ross." I repeat his name back to him in an attempt to bring my consciousness back, the feeling in my legs, even.

"You need to go home."

"I don't need to go anywhere."

I storm towards the door, but the thick sole of my shoe catches on the slightly risen slab beneath me.

The first thing I notice is how firm his grip is on my arm when he catches me, the size of his hands. I realise I'm gripping equally as firmly onto his biceps when I look at the proximity of our bodies. My chest is virtually pressed to his, the tips of our noses only inches apart, and I hold my breath.

"Iris, I-"

"Fucking hell, I thought you'd both gone missing or something, Was about to sort out a search party."

Matty drunkenly laughs at his own joke, stood in the doorway of the bar, hair dishevelled and his tie now hanging loosely from his neck.

Ross immediately lets go of me, taking a step back like we're teenagers that have been walked in on by a parent or something. I blush at both the moment we just had and also how distinctly embarrassed he seemed by it, moving away from me quickly.

"Are you coming back in, or not?" Matty furrows his eyebrows.

"I think I'm going to head home, actually." I say, avoiding the glance Ross gives me.

"Already? It's only... shit, it's 1AM." He giggles again, turning around and reentering the bar before I can even reply.

I don't give Ross the opportunity to make this any more tense or awkward. Crossing my arms across my chest and turning around, I leave him standing in the smoking area, taking back control of the situation with the knowledge that he cannot stand it.

[zahri-melitor]

Recent Reads:

I haven’t done a round up of stuff I’ve picked up randomly for a while so let’s have one:-

Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles: I tried this, on the back of the fact I do enjoy Mark Russell’s satire. After one issue I rapidly realised I simply don’t know enough about the Hanna-Barbera characters in this to care about the adaption going on. The premise is interesting, it’s just Not For Me.

Madame Xanadu 2008 #1-10: this is Matt Wagner with Amy Reeder on art. Reeder's art is ADORABLE and she has such fun drawing elaborate clothing all the way through this. I really enjoy Matt Wagner's ability to take old stories or concepts and breathe a modern comics approach into them, making them a lot more accessible. This is Wagner telling the backstory of Nimue Inwudu, stopping in with her at 5 points in her history (Camelot, the court of Kublai Khan, the French Revolution, Jack the Ripper London, and America WWII) and her interactions with a bunch of characters from the Magic side of DC (Merlin, Etrigan, Death of the Endless, the Phantom Stranger, Giovanni Zatara, and Jim Corrigan as the Spectre). Nimue has a MASSIVE beef with the Phantom Stranger. She does not like him at all, because he keeps turning up at some of the worst points in her life and won't help her try to evade terribly fated things. Come for the Amy Reeder art, stay for the story.

The Demon: Hell is Earth 2018: I enjoyed this. Because I don’t clean read Etrigan stuff in order I cannot remember if Etrigan is officially a Rhymer again as of Rebirth (he appears to be rhyming for fun and because he enjoys it, but isn’t bound to do so, but he’s also getting mocked by his demon uncle for using rhymes). In any case, Jason Blood and Etrigan get separated for hell-related reasons, and they’re running around with Madame Xanadu and Merlin to prevent Belial taking over Earth by invading from Hell. Good times. Lots of people die. Etrigan potentially ends up King of Hell at the end of this story.

Swamp Thing: I was going to make this its own post but heck let’s put everything in together.

Len Wein (Swamp Thing #1-13 1972): Wein's work is absolutely solid magical horror. He sets up an intriguing premise to build from and he can spin a good story. It's exactly the sort of amusing writing that keeps me coming back to, say, Warlord. Worthwhile to see the starting premise.

David Michelinie (Swamp Thing #14-18, 21-22 1972): Not as good at Wein, but definitely can tell a story. You can tell he spent time on House of Mystery given the episodic horror nature of his storytelling.

Gerry Conway (Swamp #19-20, 23-24 1972 plus Challengers of the Unknown #81-87 1977): Conway I think is the first writer who actually gets some of the specific horror you can imbue in this concept, especially around identity. I can see how his ideas could contribute to the later concepts Moore will introduce. I don't think his execution is fantastic but the hand regeneration? Yeah. Yeah that is playing with the ideas available.

Martin Pasko (Brave and the Bold #176 1955, Saga of the Swamp Thing #1-19 1982): Pasko is definitely processing things. Like, the man has an entire story that's just him responding to the Atlanta Child Murders of 1979-1981. He is very much a cynic about the innocence of childhood (or innocence in general, actually) and wants to explore the dark side of humanity.

The Phantom Stranger: these have been backups to the Martin Pasko Swamp Thing issues. Mostly I’ve found them pretty trite and a bit overly religious in places. Yes I know his entire concept is rooted in religious myth (as the Wandering Jew) but I mean more in a 'this tale has an Overt Christian Moral' way. The concept of the character is fascinating. The execution seems to be very across the shop.

Outsiders #1-33 2003: oh boy. Uh. Tomasi's fill using the original Batman & The Outsiders characters was a WELCOME reprieve to this. Okay, in terms of the main run: I tend to find Judd Winick a writer that either I'm fully enjoying or decidedly not to my taste. Outsiders falls into the 'not to my taste' category. I can see what Winick is going for in terms of 'let's make this Gritty! And Mature!' except for it's really not that gritty and his idea of making it mature is just having everyone hooking up a lot on panel, whether or not said hookup makes characterisation sense. And then he'll turn around every 10 issues or so and have some quite interestingly interrogative storytelling about Dick and Roy. (literally: you want issues #1, 11 and 21). I see what a bunch of the DickRoy shippers enjoy in this, but there's a lot of cantilevered cloud structures required to extract the Shippy Goodness out of the rest of this run.

[funnywormz]

🏳️‍🌈Rimmer...

send me 🏳️‍🌈 and a character for my lgbt headcanon and a doodle

HELL YEAH >:3

my headcanons on rimmer bounce around a little bit but these are the most constant ones/my favs! some elaboration/explanation below

gay: i headcanon rimmer as gay (specifically homoromantic)! he is just gay to me. i cannot imagine him with a woman, and all of his attempts to act straight and manly in canon feel kinda silly like he's trying Too Hard. i could go on a rant abt this topic for hours but ppl in the rd fandom already somewhat know what im talking abt lol. he's at least some flavour of queer no doubt abt it

asexual: ive seen this headcanon around a bit and iirc at least one half of grant naylor has said that rimmer doesn't rlly feel attraction or have much libido and his attempts at sexual pursuits are just him trying to prove something (this also relates to him being gay but yknow)......... this headcanon has grown on me a lot and i like it. personally i feel like it fits him and makes sense for his character yknow. i don't rlly have much to say abt this one lol i just saw someone else with this headcanon one day and was like "oh yeah that checks out. asexuality be upon ye" and that was it. also a character with a nickname/alter ego called "ace" literally being ace is too good of an opportunity to pass up tbh

nonbinary: probably the most niche/unpopular of these headcanons but hear me out. rimmer does a lot of posturing and protesting around his sexuality but he also does the same thing with his gender, always trying to prove himself as a manly man despite that not being who he is, making snide remarks abt ace wearing woman's clothing, the moments when he wears women's clothing himself, the fact that low rimmer is blatantly gnc etc......... also he's been a hologram for most of his life? death? existence? now and the entire human race is extinct. gender and sex and whatever are kinda completely irrelevant to him now. and i think that for rimmer, gender was always more of a cage that he forced himself into rather than something he ever had genuine enthusiasm about. also im nonbinary and i love Projecting and also generally fucking around with characters' genders

(side note: ik ive been using he/him exclusively for rimmer here, and im doing that bc those are his pronouns in canon and what ppl are familiar with, but personally i headcanon his pronouns as he/she/they/xe)

(side side note: im aware that rimmer is far too repressed and confused to ever realise that he is gay much less that xe is ace and nonbinary LOL. these are not things i would expect her to ever fully realise abt himself. but like. in theory. deep down. in an ideal universe. this is how i see him truly being below all the internalised issues etc)